Awesome.
I park my bike and turn the engine off.
“I’ve come to see Lynx Harper.” I don’t raise my voice or anything, but I can just about see the house from here and it seems like every fucker in the yard turns to look my way.
I can feel their eyes on me, and a bead of sweat trickles down my back.
“He expecting you?” one of the guys asks. I don’t recognise either of them.
“No.” I’m pretty sure they’re about to tell me to fuck off when they stiffen, look back toward the house, then nod.
Weird.
Maybe they’ve got hidden earpieces or something.
“It’s your lucky day.” He looks at his mate and grins. “Or not.”
They both get up, unlock the huge gates, and pull them open.
“Head for the house.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, my heart beating like it’s trying to escape, because everyone’s still staring at me. It’s like they’ve all stopped whatever they were doing to focus on me, and I’ve never felt more exposed or vulnerable than I do right now.
As weird as it sounds... I feel likeprey.
Maybe Ash was right.
Maybe this is the worst idea I’ve ever had and I’m going to die.
Get a grip Morgan. They might do some shady shit, but they’re not going to kill you for riding into their compound.
At least I really fucking hope not.
Starting my bike again, I take a slow ride forward, trying not to panic as I hear them close the gates behind me.
He’s not here.
It’s my first thought as I get close enough to scan the faces still watching me. The expressions are less than welcoming and my stomach sinks. There’s no way they’re going to let me join them. What the fuck was I thinking?
Can’t turn back now though.
As much as I want to, pride won’t let me leave until I’ve done what I came here for. At least I hope it’s only my pride.
Running out of road, there’s nothing I can do but park my bike alongside a row of others—all of them newer and shinier than mine.
“A 2006 Super Glide.”
I turn to find out who said it and inhale sharply.
Callum Holt.
Wild Wolves’ vice president. Warm brown skin, and eyes so dark I get lost in their depths for a beat too long before I snap out of it. He’s a big guy, maybe six foot three, with shaved hair that’s as dark as his eyes. “Yeah,” I manage to pull from somewhere, proud when my voice doesn’t waver. “Restored her myself.”
He’s intimidating as hell as he walks towards me, but then he smiles and,Jesus fuck, it’s like the sun coming out. “Nice.”
I wonder if Ash’s ever seen him smile like that. It’d explain the way his cheeks flush whenever I mention his name. Then Callum crosses his arms, expression sobering, and I’m back to feeling out of my depth.
“What are you doing here, Morgan?”
